An Unhappy Coincidence
by InSilva
Summary: Set about ten years or so before O11, a surprise of Rusty’s backfires. Badly. Warnings for violence and profanity. Complete.
1. Chapter 1 Surprise

An Unhappy Coincidence by InSilva

Summary: Set about ten years before O11, a surprise of Rusty's backfires. Badly. Warnings for violence.

Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty aren't mine. Just in case you wondered.

Chapter One: Surprise

"It was the shirt that did it," Danny says, not unreasonably.

"It's a very nice shirt," Rusty protests.

"Not if you're a small town judge."

* * *

_The day had started out reasonably enough; an ordinary day driving through middle America except that it happened to be Danny's birthday and Rusty hadn't mentioned it._

_It rankled with Danny more than he cared to admit. He couldn't believe that Rusty didn't know what day it was and he couldn't believe that Rusty was being deliberately obtuse. Which meant Rusty had something up his sleeve and Danny hated not knowing._

* * *

"He was just in a bad mood."

"That shirt's enough to put anyone in a bad mood."

_

* * *

__They pulled in to a sleepy town for lunch. The diner had a few locals who looked up when they walked in and then turned their attention back to their plates. They sat at one of the tables in the window and waited for the waitress to take their order. _

_She paused as she reached the table, taking in the fact that Danny was in black tie. Minus the tie._

_"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he assured her._

_She made a noise in response that sounded as if there was nothing much left to surprise her in this world, then asked, _"_What'll it be, gents?" __with her pencil poised over her notepad._

_Danny looked at Rusty who was studying the chalkboard with interest._

"_Steak 'n' fries, hold the egg, extra mushrooms, extra onion rings and gravy, please," he rattled off. _

"_Times two," Danny added. "And two coffees, thank you."_

_She sloped away and Danny stared across the table at his partner, his best friend – his very best friend: the man who still wasn't mentioning his birthday._

* * *

"He probably just got out of bed the wrong side."

"Rusty, trust me. It was the damn shirt."

___

* * *

_

The meal over, Rusty left Danny to pay. Danny counted out dollar bills and thought black thoughts about how they were going to spend Rusty's birthday.

_Somewhere on the way back to the car, Danny later worked out, Rusty managed to lift his wallet and replace it with another. It was expertly done, naturally._

* * *

"I would have noticed the lift if I wasn't so damn preoccupied with why you hadn't remembered."

"That's what you want to think. Sure, blame it on that."

"Thank you, I will."

* * *

"_Won't be a minute," Rusty said, disappearing into the local store and post office which was sandwiched between the bank and the police station like the main street you'd find in Toytown._

_Danny leaned against the car and sighed. They'd only just eaten and already Rusty was stocking up on candy. Rusty re-emerged, wearing a self-satisfied smile, which again Danny later worked out was because he'd posted their wallets some place safe. _

"_Can we go now?" Danny asked, partly wondering where the inevitable M & Ms were hidden._

"_In a moment," Rusty said, bending down and selecting a hefty sized rock._

_Completely mystified, Danny watched as Rusty weighed the rock in his hand._

"_What-" Danny began and then stared in horror as Rusty pulled his arm back and launched the stone through the store window._

"_Have you gone insane?" Danny hissed._

_Rusty picked up another rock and Danny moved. He grabbed Rusty's arm and pulled the rock from it. Just in time for the store owner to come out on to the street. Just in time for the local police officer to walk out through the station door._

"_Oh…" Danny groaned._

* * *

"That was a mean thing to do. I didn't have you down as a mean person."

"It was necessary. I can be mean if it's necessary."

* * *

_Their car impounded, Danny stood fuming as his prints were taken. Rusty was busy wiping the ink from his fingers._

"_Now you're gonna wait in the cell till we check your prints," Officer Marley said. "Mr…" He checked the paperwork for the names Rusty had provided, the names their identification backed up, "Mr Smith and Mr Bailey."_

* * *

"Jimmy Stewart fan."

"You like him too."

"More of a Cary Grant man myself."

* * *

"_Now I know you know that I have a previous for six weeks from way back when."_

"_That's true," Rusty nodded._

"_So," Danny gave a quick grimace at Rusty's unusual stupidity, "my prints are going to come back as belonging to Daniel Ocean, not to George Bailey."_

"_Mmm. Guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."_

* * *

"I should have guessed then."

"You should have," Rusty agrees. "You were on poor form."

"Still wondering why I'd been blessed with the company of such a prize idiot."

* * *

"_Prints came back," Marley was saying down the phone. "No prior convictions." _

_Danny looked at Rusty who grinned. _

"_Happy birthday."_

_They sat side by side in the cell. _

"_How?"_

"_That guy we worked with eight months ago. Twitchy guy. Tech genius."_

"_Livingston Dell?"_

"_Yeah. Don't ask me the ins and outs because he lost me after the first three words but the prints on file for Danny Ocean now belong to a 70-year-old Baptist minister in Iowa. Unless he takes to grand larceny, I think it will hold up for a while."_

"_Couldn't you just have told me? Did we really need to go through this?"_

_Rusty shrugged. "Wanted to check it out. No good thinking it will work, is it? And it's not like you can wander in and ask."_

_Danny sighed._

"_Look, what are we going to get?" Rusty said. "Slap on the wrist and a fine? We're going to be very, very sorry, aren't we?"_

* * *

"Obviously not sorry enough."

"Obviously."

* * *

"_City types." Judge Mathias Harris IV looked them over, taking in Danny's evening dress and lingering on Rusty's green shirt. It seemed to offend him. "Loose-living, fancy-dressing city types. Coming to our town and indulging in disorderly conduct."_

"_Oh, come on." The words were formed in Rusty's throat. He didn't even move his lips._

_The judge sucked his teeth and looked at Danny who was stood in the dock by Rusty's side._

"_Guess you think I'm going to give you a fine and let you off."_

_Well, yeah._

"_No, sir," Danny said, wondering if it was a trick question._

"_Good. I can't do much to teach you respect for our town, but I can do this. Two days each in our county jail. Case dismissed."_

_Oh, crap._

* * *


	2. Chapter 2 Unserendipity

An Unhappy Coincidence by InSilva

Chapter Two: Unserendipity

Disclaimer: Rusty and Danny do not belong to me. They do belong to each other though.

A/N: I would like to thank the terrific otherhawk for taking time out to read and provide constructive crit for the story from here on in. otherhawk, you are a shiny, twinkly thing in the sky and no, that's not Sputnik nor a Boeing 747.

* * *

"Hell of a way to spend a birthday," Rusty says which Danny knows is an apology.

He nods by way of acceptance.

_

* * *

_

They spent the night at the police station debating whether they can buy their way out or whether they should at least call someone. In the end they decided to keep their heads down and do the time. It would be way less embarrassing than explaining.

* * *

"Who would believe us anyway?" Danny muses.

"When you put it like that…"

_

* * *

_

Mid-morning, they reached the county jail which is a half an hour ride away. As they queued for lunch, Rusty looked as unhappy as possible in the uniform of grey sweatpants and long-sleeved grey T. Danny knew this was as bad as punishment got for Rusty.

_The lunch was basic and Rusty looked wistfully around for something sweet to eat._

"_You're out of luck," Danny said, seeing the look and interpreting it correctly._

_Rusty sighed in agreement._

"_What's your cellmate like?"_

"_Driver under the influence called Tony Norris. Actually, Rambling Tony Norris. Let's just say he's a card short of a full house. What about you?"_

"_Ex-accountant called Sidney," Danny said. "Debarred for embezzlement. Debarred?" he looked at Rusty. "Defrocked? Delisted?"_

"_Wow. All three? Guess his number was up."_

_Danny gave a low groan. Rusty just grinned._

"_Tell me," Danny frowned. "Do I look menacing?"_

_Rusty tilted his head on one side. "Now? Or just generally?"_

"_The first thing Sidney did was hand over a lighter, a packet of cigarettes and the contents of his mattress."_

"_His mattress?" Rusty raised his eyebrows. "Maybe he's related to Rambling Tony. What did he give you?" _

_Danny gave a nonchalant glance around. The guards were chatting casually by the door. No one was paying them that much attention._

"_This," he said, reaching up his right sleeve and producing a Mars bar._

_Rusty's eyes fixed on the chocolate._

"_You really don't deserve this," Danny shook his head._

"_How sorry do I have to be?"_

_Danny gave in and threw it over._

* * *

The tour of the facilities does not take long. Warden's office, chaplain's office, admin office: laundry, workshop, library; exercise yard, canteen, general area; and rows and rows of 8 by 8 by 12 cells.

"I'd hate a cruise," says Rusty and Danny nods, knowing what he means.

Now they are standing on the landing, leaning over the rail, talking through what's happened – and no matter what Danny says, Rusty still can't believe it's all the fault of the shirt - and looking at the prisoners milling about below.

"Rusty, be careful, will you?" Danny is assiduously inspecting his nails.

He studies Danny with a frown, wondering what he's getting at and then rolls his eyes. "Come on. I'm not seventeen. I think I can handle myself in here for two days."

"Rus," Danny's voice is low and urgent and this time he does look at him. "I know what I'm talking about. It happens. And you…you're…" he sighs, giving up the fight of how to articulate the signals Rusty can give off without meaning to.

_Are you saying I'm less than manly?_

With difficulty, Danny ignores the gleam in Rusty's eye and the ear-to-ear grin that has appeared on his face and bites back on the response he wants to give. He settles for, "Keep your eyes open and don't let yourself be on your own."

His smile fading because Danny really isn't playing, Rusty reads the concern and nods slowly. _Don't worry. I'll be watchful._

"But after all, this is county jail not the pen," he says lightly. "Let's face it, we're probably the worst people in here."

Looking back, they decide the moment is full of irony because somewhere behind them, they hear a chuckle and a voice says:

"Well, well. Spotted you two at lunch. New fish."

Rusty frowns and Danny can see him running through names in his head. Then he gives a sharp little hiss of breath and Danny sees a flash of something he's rarely seen in Rusty's eyes and then the fear is gone as soon as it's appeared.

They turn round and Danny forgets to breathe. There are four of them. Three are strangers but the fourth…the man is older, dark hair slightly silvered, but still as tall and powerfully built as he remembers, and his eyes are still as coldly, darkly vicious. An early mark they stripped of money and power and freedom without him knowing they were responsible. As part of the job, however, Rusty had found himself alone with him and vulnerable and neither of them want to think too much about what would have happened if Danny hadn't come for him. It is Bryn Gower.

"Not a new fish, though," Bryn says, looking at Rusty. "More like the one that got away."

Rusty stares back at him, unblinking, his face as emotionless as if he were playing for a big pot at poker.

Bryn jerks his head and Danny finds himself grabbed and bundled backwards through the door of the cell behind them. _Rus,_ he thinks frantically and twists round trying to see what's happening. Rusty is being forced back into the cell too, pushed up against the right-hand wall as Danny is against the bottom end of the cell.

"Out," Bryn instructs the two cons sitting on the bottom bunk and they melt away.

"Let him go," he says to the man holding Rusty, "and watch the door."

There is no arguing with the muscle holding Danny's arms. His eyes lock on to Rusty's face; Rusty is focused on Bryn.

"I worked it out, you know, fish," Bryn says softly, leaning one hand up against the wall next to Rusty's shoulder, blocking the way to the door.

Danny bites the inside of his lip. After all their efforts not to leave a trail.

"You're not Texan, you're not brothers," Bryn says with certainty. "You're just a pair of chancing hustlers. Your partner there," he nods his head towards Danny, "sends you out, sets you up on a platter for me. You planned to slip me something that night and then...steal, blackmail..." he shrugs.

_Hustlers…he doesn't know…he doesn't know…_Danny breathes again then remembers this is still Bryn, still one of the most callous men they have come across. And he is still invading Rusty's personal space.

"Sorry it didn't work out for you," Bryn grins, sounding anything but sincere.

He stops smiling and his eyes rake Rusty's form.

"Didn't you fill out nicely," Bryn says with approval. He runs an appraising hand across Rusty's chest and then downwards across his stomach, where it lingers for a moment before dropping back to his side. He studies Rusty's face intently. "Still got that pretty mouth, I see."

Danny swallows and bites his lip again.

Rusty is stone.

"Ever think about that night?" Bryn half-closes his eyes and gives a ghost of a smile. "It's working for me right now."

He opens his eyes again.

"Now as I see it, we have some unfinished business, you and I. Back then, I asked you whether you understood what was going to happen. Remember?"

"I remember," Rusty says and his voice is icily neutral.

"So I'll ask you again, do you understand what's going to happen?"

A pause. Danny knows Rusty is processing that thought just as he is.

Eventually, Rusty says, "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

And the response comes, flat and giving nothing away.

"Yes, I understand what's going to happen."

"Good." Bryn's hand travels up to Rusty's hair and strokes it with deliberation then moves to Rusty's shoulder and grips it. "I'm so glad we're speaking the same language."

Danny realises he is biting his lip so badly he can taste blood. Suddenly, he finds his voice.

"Look, perhaps we can come to some sort of-"

He is cut off by a blow from Bryn who turns suddenly and delivers it hard to his stomach: he doubles up.

"You're just a spectator," Bryn says shortly. "Bear that in mind."

There is a bang on the door and Bryn sighs regretfully. He turns back to Rusty. "You'll keep. Here's something to remember me by."

His mouth is on Rusty's in an instant, his hands pushing him up against the wall, his body leaning in to him, pinning him there. As best as Danny can tell, Rusty's face does not change. His eyes stare straight ahead throughout and he stands motionless until Bryn pulls away.

"Nice try, fish," Bryn says, "but remember, I've seen inside you and I know you're quaking."

He nods at the men holding Danny and they let go. As the cell door closes behind them, Rusty hangs against the wall for a moment then closes his eyes and slides gracelessly down it.

_Danny…_

Danny is already moving. He is across to him in a heartbeat and clasps his hand. Rusty grips it tightly and presses it to his temple as if it were a glass of malt whisky. Danny watches his face run through a gamut of emotions: anger, fear, disgust, self-loathing…. Eventually, his face regains its composure and he opens his eyes.

"Fuck, but I feel unclean."

He throws his head back and exhales then lifts an exploratory hand to his mouth. His eyes glaze over for a moment at the memory of Bryn and then he launches forward past Danny, retching, heading for the toilet bowl.

Getting to his feet, Danny listens to the sound of Rusty's lunch re-emerging. Rusty straightens up, wiping his mouth and breathing heavily.

"You can say 'I told you so', you know."

Danny has his chin buried furiously in his hand. "Won't be saying it any time soon. Wasn't thinking we'd run into Bryn Gower."

"All the prisons in all the world…" Rusty draws a deep breath.

"What's he doing here anyway?" Danny mutters. "He should be nailed up in Leavenworth."

They are silent for a moment, thinking about the injustice of the justice system.

"Alright, options," Rusty says, as if they were debating the best way into a job. "Number one, I could just let him…oh, fuck…" he tails off with a shudder, struggling to keep his objectivity and Danny knows he is thinking back to his first encounter with Bryn, how close things got…how close things might yet get….

Rusty masters his emotions and goes on. "OK. I could just let him. I mean he's all about power and control and if I don't let him see…if he's _disappointed_…then…"

He swallows and looks at Danny. "I could do it," he says finally.

"Don't say it's just another part," Danny warns.

Rusty ignores him.

"I could do it… it'd be…but I could do it…and…" Rusty pauses, tight-lipped, considering, "and I could live with it."

"I couldn't," Danny says immediately and Rusty flashes him a quick smile.

"Option two. I could fight back."

They both take a moment to contemplate how that would play and simultaneously shake their heads.

"Why'd you have to be so damn irresistible?" Danny says heavily. "And why can't you be 6' 7 and weigh 300 pounds or something? All that food you stuff away, you should at least be making the weight."

"Hardly think I could work effectively if I did look like that. Might be more than somewhat memorable."

Danny is relieved that Rusty is almost back in control of Rusty.

"Well, leaving the country's not an option," Rusty says. "And I suppose it's too much to hope he comes down with dysentery."

The fury running through Danny bubbles up again and he stands there, contemplating…_he's only an inch or two taller and OK, the way he's built he's always going to have the advantage over Rusty but if I can get him on his own-_

"Don't even think about it," Rusty says sharply.

But Danny wants to and he hangs on to the thought just a little bit longer.

"Daniel," Rusty adopts the voice and the vocative that Saul would if he were delivering a lecture, "we are only in here till the day after tomorrow. Let's not stay any longer."

"Mmph," Danny concedes grudgingly. "Well, we could always-"

"Who? Reuben? Saul? Bobby Caldwell? What are they going to do? Any strings that they can pull, will take-"

"-time." Danny finishes. Rusty's right. Of course, he's right.

"So what do we do?"

Danny considers for a moment and then his face is full of apologetic regret.

"What?" Rusty asks, clueless. As Danny hesitates, he adds, "Now's not the time to be modest."

Danny makes his mind up. He draws back his fist and punches Rusty hard in the face, sending him flying back against the wall.

"Son of a…" he puts his hand up to his bottom lip and dabs at the blood with his fingers. "How's that help?"

Danny lets him work it out.

"Oh…" he nods. "OK. Go for it."

Danny lets another punch fly, catching Rusty under the eye.

"Don't forget body punches," Rusty grimaces. "And make them hard, there'll need to be-"

"Bruises," Danny finishes, his voice tight with remorse. "I know."


	3. Chapter 3 Pursuit

An Unhappy Coincidence by InSilva

Chapter Three: Pursuit

Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty are mine! Sorry, that was wishful thinking.

* * *

They're standing in the warden's office: Danny, by the warden's desk, Bryn and Rusty on the opposite side of the room in front of two guards. They are waiting for the warden to finish his phone call.

Danny's fist aches abominably. He stopped long before Rusty wanted him to and well after he'd wished. He looks over at Rusty and hopes that the imperceptible sway is for effect.

_Job done. _

_Let's hope._

Then he notices Bryn leaning in to Rusty, talking. The two guards behind them must have been bought because they are deliberately not listening. Danny can't read Bryn's lips so he settles for reading Rusty's face.

He is still keeping it together, channels of communication wide open, but as Bryn speaks, he starts to close down, the lights going off one by one. He's still looking straight at Danny but now he's indecipherable.

_Rusty…?_

Nothing. And Danny is suddenly aware that Bryn is watching him.

The warden finishes his call and turns his attention back to the three of them. Before he can say a word, Rusty speaks.

"I'm sorry, sir, there's been a mistake."

And to Danny's horror, he retracts everything, excusing, absolving, blaming it all on the old chestnut, a fall down a set of stairs and one of the guards says that he "might have actually seen that" and at the very least, he "possibly definitely heard something that sounded like that". The other guard mentions that he "was almost certain Bryn was at the other end of the jail at that time".

To his credit, the warden eyes Bryn sceptically and pushes Rusty for the truth or at least, the lie that they have set up as the truth. Rusty is obstinate and obdurate as only he can be.

The warden turns to Danny. "Well, Bailey? You were the one who suggested Gower's involvement. What do you have to say?"

And he wants more than anything to go against Rusty's version. He wants to shout at Rusty and insist on the story they've spun but he knows disagreeing with Rusty, disputing the guards' accounts and challenging Bryn will not help. It will be his word against the four of them and if he gets marked down as a troublemaker, there might be consequences; and consequences might mean he's not at liberty to help Rusty. He wills Rusty to look at him but Rusty just won't meet his eye.

"I guess," he says, dripping reluctance, "I was mistaken."

And the warden has no choice but to dismiss them.

"Take this man straight to the infirmary," he instructs the guards and they lead Rusty away. Danny thinks _at least he's safe for now, for tonight._

Bryn leaves, giving Danny a lazy smile.

* * *

He lies on his bunk, listening to Sidney snore above him and replays what happened in the warden's office. He can only think of one reason why Rusty would stop talking to him, only one reason why Bryn would prevail and he curses Rusty for not putting himself first. What makes them strong, makes them weak too.

There is a sound at the cell door and Danny sits up cautiously. He gets as far as swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk and then it opens and Bryn is stood in the doorway.

"Five minutes," the guard behind Bryn says and he nods and saunters in, leaning casually against the wall opposite Danny, his face half-lit by the light from the doorway. Danny rises silently to face him.

"I guess you hate me right about now, Mr Bailey."

"Can't say I'm planning to invite you out for drinks or anything."

"You and your friend, Mr Smith. You're very close, I can see that. Friends…partners…lovers…?" he looks searchingly at Danny who gives him nothing. Bryn smiles. "He's such a pretty, little plaything. What's the matter, Mr Bailey? Didn't your mother teach you it's nice to share?"

"She taught me plenty. Guess yours was too busy learning to sit, beg and roll over."

Bryn chuckles then goes on, "The thing is, as you can see I'm used to getting what I want. Now I understand my window of opportunity for that is very slim. You're out of here the day after tomorrow."

"S'right."

There is a pause and then Bryn says softly, "I could find him tonight. I can get anywhere I damn well please in here."

And Danny can feel the ice snake its way through his veins. If it's a bluff, it's a good one.

"But anticipation is a powerful tool. And," Bryn pauses, lips twitching, "I'd like him just slightly more unravelled."

In spite of himself, Danny can feel his fists clench. Rusty's logical argument aside, he is seriously contemplating how much damage he could inflict on Bryn before the guard outside could stop him.

"Understand this, Mr Bailey, it's not a question of if, it's a question of when. Because I already know how."

He leaves the cell and as Sidney continues to snore, Danny is left with the uncomfortable feeling that he too knows exactly what that leverage will be.

* * *

He lies on the bed in the infirmary, wincing a little at the pointlessly inflicted pain, and knows somewhere Danny is berating him for taking the Fifth. He doesn't care. He thinks back to Bryn's poison drip-feeding into his ear, painting a picture of what might happen, what _would_ happen if he stuck to his story.

If he'd ignored Bryn's threat, he thinks he might have killed a little something in what makes Danny and Rusty DannyandRusty, because what makes them DannyandRusty brooks no conditions: it is absolute.

* * *

Muted light filters through the frosted glass of the infirmary and picks out the blond highlights in Rusty's hair. He is wrapped in sleep which is not entirely dreamless: his face frowns and twitches as whatever is troubling him ripples through him.

He lies on his left side, bare-chested, arm resting over the top of the sheet. The swelling on his face is subsiding and the bruises on his body are starting to colour. Lascivious eyes watch his smooth chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm.

Rusty fidgets, trying to get comfortable. He turns more on to his stomach, leaving one knee drawn up slightly towards his chest, arm now tucked up under his pillow. The watching eyes take in the expanse of his shoulders and his back and a hand reaches out to slyly tug the sheet further down, like peeling a piece of ripe fruit, exposing the curve of Rusty's spine. There is a deep-throated noise of appreciation at the sight.

The predatory hand reaches out and comes to rest on Rusty's hipbone, which is protected only by the thin material of the sheet. Rusty stirs. The hand moves deliberately downward, stroking the covered flesh. It rests on Rusty's thigh and its grip tightens possessively. This time it's enough for Rusty to open his eyes. He turns and looks up at the unwanted visitor.

"Surprise," whispers Bryn and makes his move, pushing Rusty back down on the bed, using his weight to hold him there. Futilely, Rusty tries to push him away but Bryn catches his wrists easily and pins them to the pillow. They stay in tableau for a moment, Rusty struggling against Bryn's superior strength, Bryn smiling knowingly. Then Bryn brings his face down, mouth descending roughly on Rusty's, tongue prising its way in, just as it did in the cell.

The kiss seems to last forever. When he finally pulls back, Bryn gives an appreciative nod.

"Let's see what else you've got to offer, fish," and he pulls the sheet back completely and- - Danny wakes up, sweating, and squints bleary-eyed at the dawn light.

It has been a night of fitful sleep. Scenarios keep playing out in Danny's mind whether he wants them to or not and although he knows he must have been dreaming some of them, there is a disturbing similarity between how his conscious and his unconscious mind think this is going to run.

Most times, it starts with Bryn ordering Rusty to strip and Danny hates – _hates_ – that this man of agile beauty, with eyes so alive, this man of animal grace and mercury intelligence, this man who is part of his very self, should be reduced to meat. Sometimes, Rusty is made to kneel in front of Bryn; other times, he is held down.

Mostly, Danny is made to watch and then, in spite of what his peripheral vision tells him is going on, he keeps looking straight into Rusty's eyes, lending him strength, telling him they will get through this. Occasionally, it all happens without Danny present and Danny is unresolved as to whether this is better or worse and for whom.

Every time, all he can do afterwards is hold him.

* * *

Rusty lies and listens to the sounds of the infirmary waking up. His mind is full of the encounter with Bryn in the cell. He can still feel Bryn's hands pushing his body up against the wall, he can still feel Bryn's mouth on his, still feel Bryn's tongue forcing its way in, hard, demanding, brutal. His thoughts keep jumping back six years or so to the last time he was up close and personal with Bryn. Danny is not going to appear at the death this time.

The one thing he is hanging on to is that they only have another day to get through: a day to run and hide in the one place they can't do either.

* * *

Bryn is nowhere to be seen at breakfast time. Danny learns he has been called back to the warden's office and hopes it's for a little chastisement. Someone has said Bryn's here through a plea-bargain but apparently his reputation does nothing to persuade anyone he is innocent of anything.

Rusty returns. His face is still marked but Danny knows that won't put Bryn off. He slides in next to Danny with his tray of food.

"Rusty…"

_Don't start._

Danny sighs. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been beaten up by George Foreman's sister. You punch like a girl."

In spite of himself, Danny smiles. He's done nothing of the sort.

"So at what point did you decide you want to go it alone?" Danny asks. "Because I don't remember being consulted in the warden's office."

"That's because it was my choice," Rusty says and he looks levelly at Danny, as if daring him to dispute the fact.

Danny dares. "It's never only your choice."

Rusty sticks the plastic fork into the pile of beans and gives a tired sigh. "This was something I could do, Danny. While there's something I can do, I'll do it. Always."

And Danny can't argue with that because he would too.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks.

Rusty shrugs and Danny relaxes minutely because he can tell Bryn's kept away.

"Like Frank Booth's after me," Rusty suggests.

Danny doesn't laugh because he thinks Bryn Gower might actually be scarier than Dennis Hopper's character.

"So, thought of something yet?" Rusty asks.

"Short of outright murder?"

"Mmm." Rusty sounds as if he's considering it. "We'd never get rid of the body."

"Well, I've found a place for you to hide."

_Me? Not us?_

"I'm not the one being chased by Frank Booth, remember? I need to do some scouting."

"Where?"

"Just follow me," and Rusty obeys.

"Try and make this last till lunchtime," Danny continues, a protective hand on Rusty's elbow as they walk rapidly away.

They stop in front of a door and Danny knocks.

"Make it good," he whispers and leaves Rusty to it. Rusty stares at the door and it opens.

"How can I help?" asks the chaplain and Rusty tries to look penitent as he prepares to confess all.

* * *

By lunchtime, Danny has scoured the prison for suitable places to hide till lock-up. There is worryingly little. He doesn't think Rusty's going to be able to spend the next eight hours repenting and seeking forgiveness and that aside, there is no obliging tunnel to climb into. The secret is going to be keeping on the move and knowing Bryn's whereabouts. Neither is going to be easy.

Lock-up itself is going to present a whole new challenge if last night is anything to go by. If Bryn hasn't caught up with Rusty by lights out, Danny is certain he will make a house call.

The one thing he has thought of is to make a call to someone who might actually have some influence here. It's a long shot but he thinks it's worth a try. He gets through and finds the hardest part of the conversation is explaining why they are now called Jeff Smith and George Bailey. Eventually, the message is conveyed and Danny hangs up, relief throbbing through him that he might have found some assistance.

* * *

Rusty meets him in the lunch queue.

"How's your soul?" Danny asks.

"Cleansed. I blamed my partner for leading me astray."

"Do that a lot, don't I?"

And in spite of everything, they grin.

* * *

Two hours of ducking and diving round the jail later, Danny itches to make a follow up call. He hasn't said anything yet to Rusty because he doesn't want to raise false hope.

"Got to check something," he says and Rusty goes to follow him.

"Stay put," Danny instructs. "This seems a safe place."

Rusty hesitates and then nods, hunkering down again in the corner of the library. Somehow, this does not seem a likely haunt for Bryn.

_Danny…_

Danny turns back and sees the hollow look in Rusty's eyes. The corner of his mouth turns up.

_We'll be OK. _

And Rusty nods slowly, comforted.

* * *

"Yeah, Danny, think I know someone who knows someone. They're going to talk to them."

He sighs with relief and heads back to Rusty, light of step for the first time in twenty-four hours. His mood lasts until he hits the library: Rusty is nowhere to be seen.

Now he knows it is definitely worse not to be present. Definitely worse because a vivid imagination will always outdo reality and Danny's is more than up to the task.


	4. Chapter 4 Showtime

An Unhappy Coincidence by InSilva

Chapter Four: Showtime

Disclaimer: Danny and Rusty, not mine and never will be.

* * *

Rusty has chosen to go quietly. He can see that those who have been hunting have been instructed to be firm in their approach: they're not going to take no for an answer but equally it's clear that Bryn wants him in one piece. Rusty always plays percentages and figures he'd rather take his chances on making an escape en route.

No such opportunity presents itself and Rusty gradually decides it's going to be door number one, Monty, after all and starts preparing himself mentally. If he can stay like marble, Bryn may tire early: it is reaction that will goad him on.

As he is escorted down the corridors, Rusty starts to wall up his very essence, building bricks of cold detachment around himself. Inside the citadel he lines up a strong memory to focus on, demanding every detail, every sound, every smell, till it is ready to take him away from reality. It is the technique Saul taught Danny and him long ago to cope with those times when things don't go their way. He has only had to employ it a handful of times but it works.

The door to the boiler room opens and he is pushed inside. It seems empty apart from Bryn. He starts to enter his sanctuary where there is a blackjack table, high stakes and a whisky, a con in progress and a partner with a ready quip waiting: Bryn's opening gambit yanks him back to the real world.

"Play nicely and I'll leave him intact," he says simply.

There is no doubting whom Bryn means and what he means. Rusty's heart beats a little faster because this is going to be on Bryn's terms after all and the blackjack table folds away into nothingness because all he can think is _somewhere…Danny…_

"Come here," Bryn commands and he walks, lead-footed, across to stand in front of him.

"Called in to see your boyfriend last night," he says unexpectedly and off Rusty's reaction, "Ah. He didn't tell you."

Rusty says nothing, furious with himself for giving information away.

"Well, I have to say, he didn't beg. He didn't offer to take your place," Bryn taunts and is rewarded with a flash of anger in Rusty's eyes.

"That's because he knows you'd get off on it," Rusty snaps.

"Spirit..." Bryn's eyes gleam. "We'll have to do something about that."

Bryn runs his fingers up Rusty's throat and down again, then round his collarbone before moving behind him, his fingers continuing an agonisingly slow journey across his shoulder blades. Even through the fabric of the grey T, Rusty can feel those fingers as if they were touching his flesh directly and it is all he can do to repress the shudder. Another time, another person and this might be a lover's caress but for the here and now, the touch is all about rapacious ownership.

He leans in to Rusty's left ear. "Smile, won't you?"

One of Bryn's tame guards steps forward with a handheld video camera and Rusty finds his heart has not sunk as low as he thought.

"Even with the bruises, way you look, fish, I figure I'm going to be making money out of this tape for years to come."

Rusty can feel his control slipping and fights to keep it in place.

"I bet the camera just loves you," Bryn croons. "I'm very excited to find out." And he presses his body briefly up against Rusty's so that Rusty can be left in no doubt exactly how excited he is.

He finishes his languid circle and stands in front of Rusty once more. "What is it, six…seven years? I think we've waited long enough. Why don't you slip that top off?"

And this, Rusty realises, is it. Nowhere left to run, nowhere left to hide. He watches Bryn watching him. As he stands there, waiting for Rusty to capitulate, Bryn's face is full of triumph and anticipation and amusement and something else, something puzzling, something, adept as he is at reading people, Rusty cannot identify. Almost as if there's something more...

Bryn licks his lips and delivers the coup de grace.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to _make_ you do anything."

And finally, heart-stoppingly, Rusty gets it. Bryn expects him to participate willingly…to take the initiative…to look as if he's enjoying himself…his eyes widen and Bryn sees it has finally sunk in. He laughs.

"If you need any encouragement…"

_Right. Danny. _Rusty's breath comes in short, little bursts and he sets his jaw tightly. He swallows hard and his hands wander towards the hem of his grey T and then stop. He shuts his eyes and locks down on the trembling that threatens to overwhelm him; feeling the bile rise in his throat, he swallows again. When he opens his eyes once more, Bryn's face tightens with intent and he says one word. "Now."

…_Danny_, he cries silently and he is as raw and open now as only Danny has seen him…

And then from nowhere, the sprinklers start. All of them, Bryn, Rusty and the guard, look up, blinking at the water pouring down on them. The door opens and one of Bryn's men sticks his head round it.

"You've got to clear out. Prison's on fire, they're evacuating."

The guard holding the camera shuffles nervously towards the door. "Bryn, we gotta move. I'm gonna be missed. They'll be doing a roll call."

In Bryn's eyes, Rusty can see he is still thinking about going through with it. The water is running down their faces and they blink it away, both of them waiting for the decision.

"This isn't over," Bryn snarls eventually and takes out his frustration with a blow that connects just under Rusty's jaw and sends him to the floor.

Rusty lays still for several seconds, letting the water wash over him. When he sits up, Bryn and his men are gone.

* * *

Outside in the exercise yard, Danny's levels of anxiety are reaching feverpoint as he scans the crowds for Rusty. He cannot remember the last time he has felt so helpless and so useless. The last three words he said to Rusty are killing him. If Bryn has...he can't finish the thought...the physical side would be bad enough but if Rusty has been _broken_...incoherent, impotent rage burns through him.

At last, he sees him and he seems impossibly far away and then he's there, standing right in front of him and in the midst of the swirl of prisoners, they are still. Danny looks at him - really looks at him, deep past the surface and sees the hints of what has happened. His jaw tightens. Rusty is quick to reassure.

_You?_ he asks, searching Danny's face and Danny frowns.

Simultaneously, Danny understands the question and Rusty understands the truth.

_Bluff, _they say together. They stand in silence for a moment.

"You entering a Mr Wet T Shirt competition?" Danny asks and is rewarded by a smile.

Rusty indicates the fire raging in front of them. "Anything to do with you?"

Danny shrugs.

"We may have to make an anonymous donation to rebuild the library. And possibly find Sidney a new lighter." He looks askance at Rusty. "Where were you?"

"Boiler room. Your timing was the usual."

Danny gives him a long, long look. "Glad to hear it."

A shadow looms over the top of them. A very large shadow.

"You Danny Bailey?"

"George Bailey," Danny corrects.

The man digests this and then nods. "Got a message that a friend of my cousin's brother-in-law said you needed some help." That seemed to be a longer sentence than he'd normally utter and he stood blinking.

_God bless you, Bruiser, _Danny offers up the silent prayer.

"Bryn Gower," Danny says and doesn't need to say any more.

* * *

The fire is contained with localised damage and the inmates return in time for the evening meal. They are both vigilant but Bryn is nowhere to be seen.

Danny waits until Rusty has finished the rice and beans and then passes him the Reeses Peanut Butter Cup that Sidney has provided unasked.

"Do I have to say sorry?" Rusty asks.

_Never._

"Tomorrow we're out of here," he says quietly and Rusty nods. It's seemed like a lifetime.

Danny studies him. He's looking better than he did but there are still some ragged edges that Danny doesn't like and that Danny knows are going to take some smoothing.

Rusty reads the unvoiced question. _I'll be OK, _he dismisses it. Too quickly for Danny's liking.

The large shadow appears at Danny's elbow and says "Taken care of, Mr Bailey."

And Danny knows no one will be calling in unannounced tonight.

* * *

They wake to the pleasant news running round the grapevine that Bryn has been hospitalised. They wonder briefly if he'll work out their connection: whatever, they figure he's going to be looking for Jeff Smith and George Bailey.

After breakfast, they are discharged and allowed to change back into their civvies. Rusty smooths down his suit and allows himself to relax for the first time since Danny's birthday. Danny looks at the green shirt.

"We are so burning that," he promises and Rusty grins.

They walk out of the doors to the jail and step squinting into the mid-morning sun.

"Just so as I'm clear," Danny says slowly, "you got rid of my criminal record and replaced it with another."

"That's about the size of it," Rusty concedes.

"Only now I'm going to be known as George Bailey."

Rusty sighs. It had all seemed like such a good idea at the time.

"I'll speak to Livingston."

A/N First, to thank otherhawk yet again for all her help: I am not worthy. Secondly, to say for anyone who doesn't know already that Danny and Rusty first encounter Bryn in "Information Gathering". Thirdly, there will be a short epilogue. Shortly.


	5. Chapter 5 Epilogue

* * *

An Unhappy Coincidence by InSilva

Disclaimer: Rusty and Danny are not my creation. Bryn is and I'm slightly worried.

Epilogue

* * *

They drive for most of the day, picking up some food to go, stopping for gas but both with an unspoken intent to get as far away as possible from the town and the jail and Bryn.

It's dusk when they finally stop on the outskirts of the nearest city and fall into a hotel.

"Do these work?" Danny asks, holding up George Bailey's credit cards.

"These do," Rusty says, producing a fistful of green.

The room is nothing special but it answers their most immediate requirement: to wash every trace of county jail and Bryn away.

"You first," Danny insists and Rusty flashes him a grateful look.

"I'll go and pick up some-"

"-spicy beef with extra green peppers."

"Of course. And-"

"Rocky road."

"Naturally," Danny smiles.

* * *

Rusty spends longer in the shower than he would normally. He scrubs harder and uses more soap than he would normally. But then his time spent with Bryn has been anything but normal.

Now, he stands in front of the mirror, towel round his waist, foam plastered over his face, shaving. He's done half his face when Danny sticks his head through the door.

"Picked up some whisky too," he says.

"Good," Rusty says and his gaze flicks in the mirror to Danny and back again. And then back to Danny, who is staring at Rusty's reflection, staring with a look of purest guilt. Frowning, Rusty looks down at his chest, where the bruises are now livid. When he looks up, Danny's gone.

_Shit, shit, shit. _Rusty drops the razor and looks for another towel. None is in evidence. He pulls the one from his waist, wipes his face and wraps it round himself again hurriedly.

* * *

Danny is in the bedroom, eyes closed, leaning up against the wall.

_He only has the mental strength to hit Rusty's face twice. _

_He starts in on Rusty's body and does not bother to hide the wince as each blow connects._

_Rusty grabs his shoulders._

"_Again," he insists and Danny punches his midriff. _

"_Again."_

_And Danny delivers another blow to Rusty's ribs. Rusty lets out a muted cry._

"_Again." Danny tries to close his ears._

"_Again." Danny tries to close his mind._

"_Again."_

"_Enough."_

_Rusty hangs off his shoulders and looks up at him._

"_Danny-"_

"_I said 'enough'."_

Rusty appears from out of the bathroom, half-shaven and wholly concerned.

"Danny…"

He opens his eyes and shakes his head.

Rusty stands in front of him, eyes sharp.

"Danny…?" he repeats.

_Look, it would have worked-_

_-if you'd let it._

"Don't let's go down that road again," Rusty says and adds, "I'd have done the same for you."

Danny laughs mirthlessly. "And how would you have felt?"

There is a pause while Rusty imagines and tries to deny.

"'Bout the same," he eventually admits.

Danny nods.

"Is this just about that?" Rusty asks.

"What else would it be?"

Rusty hesitates and then says, "Bryn told me he visited."

Danny shakes his head and pulls a face.

"Want to tell me?"

"Nothing to tell."

"Tell me anyway."

There is a pause and then Danny reluctantly says, "He came to gloat. He thought we were together. Together, together," he clarifies.

Rusty shrugs. "People do."

"People do," Danny agrees. And no one seemed to realise that their connection was so much deeper than that.

"And…?"

"And. He made some suggestions. Some threats."

"And what did you do?"

Danny pauses, remembering. "Called him a son of a bitch. In a roundabout way."

Rusty smiles. Danny doesn't.

"He said he could get to you that night," he whispers.

"He didn't."

"That didn't stop me thinking about it," Danny retorts and Rusty is silent.

"And then…" he breaks off and looks fiercely at Rusty.

"What?"

Danny's lips purse together in a tight line.

"After you went missing. All I could think was the last thing I said to you was that we'd be OK."

The tension leaves Rusty. This is what this is about.

"I told you we'd be OK," Danny repeats. "And then, I knew you were anything but. And we don't lie about things like that."

There was meaning in those last few words. Danny is waiting. Rusty says nothing for a moment then sighs. He crosses to the bottle of whisky and pours two glasses, handing one to Danny. He perches on the edge of the bed and Danny takes up residence in the chair opposite.

"They found me about five minutes after you left. Bryn was waiting. He…" Rusty breaks off and looks down at the whisky. "He was verbal. And tactile." He screws his eyes up. _Damn it. _"There was a camera."

Danny swears. Loudly.

"And…" Rusty swallows.

"And?"

Rusty is silent. He really hadn't wanted to share this but he knows Danny is right. Things like this, they shared.

"And he wanted me to be…" Rusty pauses, "…proactive."

Danny just looks at him then buries his face in his hands. Rusty puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright," Rusty soothes.

_Like hell._

Rusty leans forward, taking Danny's face in both hands and making Danny look at him.

"Nothing happened."

"It could have," Danny whispers.

"It didn't. Because of you."

And Rusty puts every ounce of himself into the words and the look he gives Danny until Danny slowly nods.

Rusty lets go and sits up.

"Pizza," he decides.

"Don't you want to…" Danny indicates the towel.

"Not as much as I want pizza."

* * *

After the pizza, Danny leaves Rusty, still half-shaven, still in the towel, lying on the bed with the ice-cream, and draws a bath. As he washes the layers of the past two days away, he ponders on Rusty's resilience. There's more to come he's sure.

After a while, Rusty pads in and throws Danny a bright glance as he finishes off shaving. On the surface, he is completely Rusty. Danny isn't fooled for a moment.

* * *

They lie on top of the bed, sipping the whisky and watching reruns. Eventually, Rusty yawns and Danny hits the off switch and the lights.

He lies next to Rusty listening to the rhythmic breathing. He doesn't know how he knows, but he can tell the exact moment when Rusty falls asleep. He stays awake long after that but Rusty's nightmares keep away.

* * *

Danny realises he must have dozed off. It is the distant sound of the shower running that wakes him. He checks his watch. It is a little after two and Rusty is missing.

Getting out of bed, he walks towards the bathroom and waits for his brain to explain why it is screaming at him that there is something wrong with the picture. Then he notices. The lights are off in the bathroom.

Danny grabs the door handle and forces it open, hitting the light switch as he does so. The shower is running and Rusty is sitting naked in it, knees pulled up to his body. He has a nailbrush in one hand and is scrubbing at his chest. The skin is red raw. He's already scraped at his throat and shoulders, and as for his mouth…

"Fuck." The expletive rips from Danny.

Rusty looks up at him, water and tears rolling down his face.

"I can still feel him," he whispers.

Danny moves. He goes out and grabs the sheet off the bed, comes back and turns the water off. Then he gently pulls Rusty upright and wraps him up. He propels an unresisting Rusty out of the bathroom and makes him sit down on the edge of the bed. Then he sits next to him, arms wrapped round him, holding him, waiting.

"The first time…" Rusty begins, "the first time was…but it was…and this time…"

Danny's mouth sets in a hard line as he fills in the blanks. The first time Bryn had laid hands on Rusty it had been terrifying and horrifying and every other adjective but it had been shortlived. Not long enough for Bryn to infiltrate Rusty's psyche. This time round…Danny thinks back to Bryn's words that he wanted Rusty a little more unravelled: that was exactly what he'd got.

"I tried to fight him," Rusty says so softly Danny strains to catch it. And Danny knows they're not talking about Bryn's physical attacks.

"He's just…" he tails off but again, Danny can finish the thought. Because it would be bad enough if Bryn was mindless or incapable of reason, but he is nothing of the sort. He is viciously intelligent and he is relentless. And once he gets inside your head…

"I really thought…" and he tips his head back against Danny's shoulder, staring up at the ceiling.

Danny looks at him and sees how lost he's been, how lost he is. He presses his lips chastely to Rusty's forehead. Rusty closes his eyes for a moment. Then he reaches for Danny and kisses him hard on the mouth, desperation in the kiss, desperation and desire to wipe out any imprint of Bryn. Danny lets him.

Eventually, Rusty pulls away, sorry and wild-eyed, mouth bleeding.

Danny simply says, "Let me take care of you, Rus."

He finds a damp washcloth and gently wipes Rusty's face and his body, careful to avoid the areas where the skin has been shredded.

He dries him and he hunts for the squeezed up tube of ointment at the bottom of his washbag, applying it carefully to the angry skin, sensitive to Rusty's unvoiced winces.

He finds a clean T and underwear and helps him dress.

Then he takes him to the bed and climbs in after him, holding him gently until he falls asleep.

* * *

It takes a week for the physical marks to die away and another week before Danny believes Rusty is ready to leave.

They start to pack up their things and Rusty's fingers are rubbing his mouth. A sure sign that something is on his mind.

"What?" Danny asks.

"If he had…"

Danny looks away because he cannot go to the part of his mind that houses what he would have done to Bryn if he had.

Rusty touches his arm because that wasn't his question.

"If he had…" he repeats.

Danny looks him straight in the eyes.

"Of course. Whatever it took to heal you."

Rusty looks satisfied. And then, he reaches up to Danny and kisses his mouth again. This isn't a kiss of despair. This is just Rusty kissing. This is just Rusty. It is slow and deep and gentle. It is full of fragility and grace and strength. It hints at passion and wildness and it promises you the best time you would ever, ever have.

It is so potent, it is all Danny can do not to respond. He understands the reason for this kiss just as he did the first one. This one is to show Danny he's whole again.

At last, Rusty breaks off and after a beat, Danny smiles and says, "You're welcome".

Rusty nods and heads for the bathroom.

Danny's brain is working overtime on the kiss. It's never, ever going to happen but he has to think that sex with Rusty would be-

"-amazing," Rusty says, sticking his head round the bathroom door and grinning. "Oh, yeah."

And Danny grins back.

* * *

Bryn lies in the hospital bed, his leg in traction. The attack had been swift and unexpected. He has to admit that he hadn't been thinking straight. To almost, almost have him and for him to wriggle away once more...

Even now as he lays there, he thinks about the fullness of his mouth, the firmness of his chest and stomach…the thrill of forcing the kiss, knowing as he tastes the inner softness, that the lips he is prising open belong to a man who reviles him. Bryn likes to own a mouth. He'd have liked to have him kiss him. Kiss him like he means it. He'd have liked to see him try.

He closes his eyes and grows hard, imagining what might have been. Full lips taking him in his mouth, eyes open – he'd have made sure of that – eyes open and looking up at him with hatred. The hatred is what Bryn wants. That he absolutely loathes him. And still he has to perform.

With a sigh, he comes back to the hospital ward. There is something about this one…

"Third time's a charm," he says to no one and grins.


End file.
